Red Strings and Everything
by Sydella
Summary: The Tenth Gen go on a camping trip. While there, Yamamoto reflects on the past and his relationship with Tsuna. [Implied Guardians x Tsuna, nothing explicit]


Ah, such blissful indulgence.

Yamamoto sits in front of a campfire, just about close enough to feel the scorching sensation of the flames without getting hurt. Tsuna sits next to him and the other Guardians lie sprawled around the campsite in a rather disorganised manner. Quite a fitting analogy, Yamamoto muses. Haphazard, a motley crew-but somehow they all fit together perfectly, jigsaw puzzle pieces combined to form a coherent whole.

They are here to reconnect with nature. Their own flames are derived from forces of nature, after all, so it makes sense to trade civilisation for living in the wilderness, even if it's just for a while. As Tsuna snuggles against him, Yamamoto finds himself thinking about the past.

Entering the world with a smile, Yamamoto was adored from the moment he was born. "Oh, Yamamoto Takeshi," people always say. "The baseball player. The son of the sushi shop owner. Everyone likes him. Isn't he wonderful? Such a good boy!" He chokes on such sentiments. The suffocating feeling of being put on a pedestal, Yamamoto's all too familiar with it. People see what they want to see, and what they want to see is Yamamoto the human good luck charm, a boy who is perfect and never stops smiling. But all along, a cold fire has been raging within him. Even before he tried to kill himself, even before his entire life was turned upside down, he was always aware of something churning in the darkest corners of his mind, a balance scale that would tip over at any minute and explode, becoming something dangerous.

It's not that he doesn't like people. He does. And it's not that he's secretly some kind of angst-driven hot mess. He isn't. It's just that even the happiest people succumb to despair every so often, and even the nicest people can only endure so much before they break down and bare their souls for all the world to see. So inevitably, he eventually reached his breaking point.

"You'll never play baseball again. Or at least, not the same way." Yamamoto's grim-faced family doctor had delivered that bombshell with clinical precision. Yamamoto remembers watching the doctor's thin lips move, the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Strangely, the movement reminded him of a ship floundering on choppy waters, in the split second before it goes under. _Help me. Save me. I'm drowning._

"You can always find something else to do," his father had said on the way home, clearly trying to be encouraging. "Young people change their minds about what they want to do all the time. It's not too late. You're bright and talented, Takeshi. You don't need baseball to go far."

"Sure, Dad." Yamamoto forced a smile. As always, the right response came to him as easily as breathing. It was second nature by then, really. He didn't want his father to worry and had a façade to maintain.

Of all people, Tsuna was the last person Yamamoto would have expected to be his saviour. But Tsuna did save him on that day, with the blazing sun in their eyes, whistling wind in their ears and two boys offering each other salvation without even realising it. When Tsuna tried to run away after giving a stunningly beautiful speech, Yamamoto reached for the other boy's hand without thinking twice. _Hold on tight. Don't let go. Don't run away. _And Tsuna did. Tsuna, in all his unpopular, unassuming and pure-hearted glory, saw right through all the half-truths and mind games Yamamoto kept using on himself and everyone else.

They've never spoken about that day, not really. They have an unspoken agreement to let it remain in the past, where it belongs. Tsuna needs someone sane and trustworthy to hold on to, and Yamamoto appreciates that. Yamamoto will be everything Tsuna needs and more. All Tsuna has to do is ask.

Yamamoto knows that his affection for Tsuna is teetering dangerously close to something else. He's not quite sure what it is, but he will know when the time is right. Right now, all that matters is the night sky, the sleepiness evident on his fellow Guardians' faces, and the campfire dwindling to a pile of ash and embers. Mukuro's owl hoots and flies off into the darkness; its owner watches it leave with an unreadable expression. Gokudera takes out a pack of cigarettes and offers one to Ryohei, who starts to decline but then apparently changes his mind and lights up briefly before stamping it out on the ground with an expression of distaste, earning him an irritated glance from the Storm Guardian. Hibari examines his tonfas in the dim light of the dying campfire, avoiding eye contact with the others. Lambo crawls into a sleeping bag, yawning.

Tsuna gently disengages himself from Yamamoto's embrace, gets to his feet and slowly walks away, in the direction of the woods. His Guardians (except Lambo, who is already fast asleep) gaze at his retreating back, a predatory look in their eyes. Yamamoto shifts slightly, a sleeve of his robes slipping off his shoulder, and wonders what will happen next.

Anything could happen tonight.


End file.
